


Any Greater Fear

by afinecollector (orphan_account)



Series: Not Waving but Drowning [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Backstory, Brotherly Love, CVA, Drug Use, Epilepsy, Gen, Hospital, JME, Janz Syndrome, Medical, SLT, Salt, Seizure, Tia - Freeform, epileptic, stroke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9152884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/afinecollector
Summary: Sherlock's MRI reveals the truth, and Mycroft isn't sure he can stand to see his twenty-year-old brother become an infant again.





	

“How old did you say this guy was?” Tania looked up from the computer screen, slowly pulling her gaze away as she focused on the image before her, then drew her glasses down from her nose and peered over the screen to her mentor, Jack, who was looking at her expectantly, hoping she’d be as horrified as he’d been. 

“Twenty,” Jack said and nodded very slowly. “What do you see, Tan?” 

“Cerebral damage; thrombosis… Add that to the platelet indication on his bloods. It’s an ischaemic stroke.” She shook her head and pushed her glasses back on to take another look at the MRI print on the screen. She looked back over at Jack. “He’s on medication for seizures; is that pre-existing or a result of the stroke?” 

“Comorbidity. He has a longstanding diagnosis of Janz Syndrome.” Jack clarified. 

Tania shook her head again in disbelief. “His bloods showed off the chart levels of heroin, of diazepam; there was no trace of valproic acid or clonazepam, or any other anticonvulsant I can think of in his blood or urine. So he has Janz, is clearly a seasoned drug user, and now has clear cerebral damage - albeit small.” She blinked slowly, “This kid is lucky he’s still breathing.” 

“Which he is, barely.” Jack said sombrely. “He was extubated an hour ago; but I wanted to see what you thought of these, get your reaction. It’s not the healthy brain of a twenty-something one would expect, is it? Even with epilepsy and some history of status epilepticus.” He drummed his hand once on the computer monitor. “He’ll need to be seen by OT as soon as possible and a referral needs sending up for physio. We need to get a SALT advocate down here, too; he’s IV at the moment but there’s lack of muscle control for speech and he’s drooling heavily since they extubated. He’ll need feeding therapy and thickened fluids - trying to keep him nil by mouth to avoid aspiration until we get them down here. If I handle SALT, can you get on to occy and physio? I’ll contact radiology, too, and get him in for a conscious MRI.” 

Tania nodded her head agreeably. “Yeah, of course. Martin’s rotating with the OT’s at the moment, I’m sure he’ll put a word in. And Physio are coming down for the CP patient in bay six so I’ll grab Maria before she leaves.” 

“Nice one, thanks Tan.” Jack called out as he walked away, leaving Tania alone in her small viewing room. Her eyes drew back immediately to the screen and the impressions from the MRI. She could barely contain her shock and anger; so many people came through neurology without a hope at life and always through no fault of their own. And here he was, taking up a bed that she couldn’t fully bring herself to feel he deserved. 

 

 

“My purpose is purely to see where William’s strengths and weaknesses lie at the moment, following the cerebral damage, alright?. We can work on it, we can build on it, but to do that I need to know what’s there as my base, alright?” 

The stable ebbs and flows of the therapist's New Zealander accent was bugging Mycroft to his last nerve as he listened to her explain herself in six ways before getting to the point. He nodded as she spoke, though, as did his parents, and he watched her hands wave and move in frantic gestures as she used her entire body to say each syllable. 

“So what I need to do is see William take a drink; I need to see him swallow a small drink so I can assess his swallowing and the control he does or doesn’t have over the glottis, over his tongue, and that sort of thing, alright?. And what I’m really listening out for is any sounds of aspiration; a heavy swallow followed by a watery cough that might indicate that the fluid has entered the lungs; and what I’m looking for is to see how long it takes William to work the liquid down, to actually complete a swallow, alright?”

Mycroft was sure if he heard her drag out ‘alright’ for another time, he would be forced to inflict harm and injury. Not to mention, the sound of his brother’s Christian name on her tongue sounded harsh, it sounded formal and frightening and unfair. It sounded grave, serious, like this was the end of the line and that coming back from here was a far cry from attainable. One look at his parents told him they were feeling the same. 

Sherlock’s blank face gave nothing away but the water in his blue eyes proved to Mycroft that the boy’s hearing was perfectly in tact. He hovered close to the bed as the therapist began attaining water, thickening different cups to different stages, and tried to soothe Sherlock’s clear fear. 

“Take it easy, Sherlock.” He said quietly. “You’re doing just fine.” 

Sherlock turned his head slowly to look at his brother and screwed up his face. There was a slight lag in the ability of one side to cooperate, but there was certainly no drooping and no real physical changes that told anybody who wasn’t looking for it that this boy was damaged. Sherlock shook his head slowly and made a grumbling noise in his throat. His mouth opened slowly but his tongue would not play along and words were hard to form. 

What sounded like a smudged “hurt” emanated deeply from within Sherlock’s throat, his tongue was pushed hard to his palate making his words moist and sloppy. 

“Hurts?” Mycroft frowned, then looked to his parents and the therapist to see if they’d understood the same sound. 

Sherlock’s face screwed up again and grumbled. He swallowed awkwardly before trying again, this time making an effort and causing a hard “K” to form at the end of an otherwise garbled sound. 

“Work?” The therapist asked, stalling with her thickening and mixing, intrigued by Sherlock’s attempts. She spoke with over pronunciation, as if expecting him to try to say it back. 

All eyes fixed on Sherlock again and Mycroft was frowning as he tried hard to think of ‘sounds like’ words to fill in the blanks. It took mere moments to realise what Sherlock had been trying to say, but not because he ‘worked it out’, just because he witnessed it. Sherlock’s right shoulder was twitching gently, and his right fingers were contracting inward into a loose fist ever so slightly. 

Mycroft sighed. “Jerk.” He said, quietly and Sherlock let out a sigh of clear relief that brought a sob to Violet’s throat. Mycroft looked at her as she shielded her face with her hands, unable to hold back her tears. He then looked back at Sherlock and nodded his head, acknowledging Sherlock’s words. “I know - they’re small but they’re still happening. They have to be careful with your medication and what they give you. Sherlock, you had a stroke….” He sighed and pursed his lips. “We can talk about it later. For now, you have to cooperate with the speech and language therapist and... you can do it with Mummy, and Dad. I need…” He inhaled sharply. “I have to make a phone call.” 

Mycroft withdrew himself from the bay, despite his father calling out to him and the sound of a guttural groan from his brother. Mycroft knew Sherlock was scared and needed him, but he couldn’t stay. How could he? From his innocent-eyed little brother who needed a crash-helmet to ride his bicycle, how did it reach the point where his curly head was damaged to epic proportions? It frightened Mycroft too much. 

Sherlock was mortal, in more than one sense of the word - slang or otherwise - and now look what had happened. 

How did he let it? He blamed himself. 

Should have watched him. Should have answered his calls. Should have driven him home. Should have...Should have...Should have…

**Author's Note:**

> OT/Occy - Occupational Therapist  
> SALT - Speech and Language Therapist  
> Physio - Physiotherapist  
> "CP Patient" - individual with Cerebral Palsy  
> Aspiration - where food or fluid enter the lungs rather than is swallowed, due to an inability to swallow properly, or wherein the airway does not close correctly.


End file.
